Friday, November 25, 2016

....as I have not even watched more than five episodes of the original Gilmore Girls. So don't worry.

But I thought, dear readers, that I may as well update you. It's been almost a year.

How does one measure a(n almost) year in the life?

In a miraculous baby J, a beautiful baby boy. Born 31 August, 6 pounds, 2.4 ounces, 19 inches of pure blessing. In Hebrew we call him י. He has the most delicious smile and is starting to laugh. He is apparently small percentile-wise, but his thighs are just a little zoftig :o)

In a little girl who is sweet as sugar, now almost three years old, with a sense of humor that cracks me up and a sense of empathy that makes me proud. And yes, she has curls to die for. (Forgive my ending the sentence with a preposition.) She is working on toilet training and she loves Maisy books by Lucy Cousins and handing out stickers. She just graduated from the little pool at swim class to the big pool where mama watches from a side bench. I'm not sure I'm ready. She uses Hebrew as easily and sometimes more easily than English. World, I am raising a daughter whose primary language is Hebrew. This makes my Jewish-day-school heart so proud.

In a last goodbye, at least for now, to the institution which has been my academic home since I started medical school. Technically I will still be there, but as a private practitioner, essentially competing with the university. I make no apologies. I wish they had been able to offer me a position. But they can't (and aren't interested in hiring part-time faculty), so their loss. And yes, I intend to show up and kick butt at grand rounds.

In a new home, two blocks from my old home and only one block from my parents and grandparents and one set of aunts/uncles and across the street from my other aunt/uncle. It was a crazy move, done within a week of returning from Israel and one week before flying out to meet baby J. The house has tons of potential but needs more work than anticipated. I believe that's what they call buying a house :o)

In tap dance class, and Jane the Virgin, and a wonderful novel called A Suitable Boy, and fights with Husband, and making up with Husband, and watching my sister become a kind, caring, competent young woman who makes me so very proud.

In wipes and diapers and pull ups. Loads of them.

In highlighters and Mandell chapters. My goal is to finish the book cover to cover at some point.

So where does this leave us? As I write with my little one snuggling on my lap, and my sweet girl in her bed, it's almost time to go back to work. I will start my first big-girl job next month. If all goes well, it'll be part time, giving me a chance to enjoy this motherhood for which I worked so hard. The physician whom I'm joining is a sweet, understanding woman committed to me being able to have a family. I would love to do academic medicine at some point, so we will see where things lead. A local academic program may have an opening soon, but I don't know whether part-time will be an option, and full time is just not an option.

People ask me if we will go for a third. I would love to, and N is willing -- she brought it up, not I. Yet it feels so greedy. I have two beautiful children, so it's not like I am trying to make sure A has a sibling anymore, and I am asking N to risk her body. And yet...I just don't know that I am done, and we do have good-quality frozen embryos. Husband isn't sure yet.

So we will see. We have several months before we have to decide. Right now we can't afford it anyway, and I don't want to ask my family for help.

We do know that, if we have leftover embryos at any point, we will donate them to someone/s trying to make a baby. We would love to pay it forward and it doesn't weird me out at all.

For now though, I will savor the sweet miracle sleeping in my arms and Husband and I are going to watch Monday's episode of Jane the Virgin.

But before I go -- four years ago I was on the verge of suicidal. I thought I would never hold a baby of my own. I spent Thanksgiving lying on the sofa so depressed and sick I didn't even have the energy to watch television. I can't promise that every one's happy ending will include babies. Or that if it does include babies, it will take four years and not longer. Or that it will be fair. But know that if you are in a hard place right now, it might look different in a few year's time, and I hope any change is only for the better.

Turner's Syndrome-related links

About Me

Yes, I really did get married in scrubs. But it was the 2.5th time, and to the same guy.
My lab coat is the one with the bottomless pockets. And yes, I really do need everything in them.
Talents include the ability to peel my weight in potatoes and onions, and to run for a code in heels and be first on the patient.
Weapons of choice: Panoptic ophthalmoscope, Littman Cardio III stethoscope, and my matza-ball soup of bi-continental fame.